


Like a Father

by infinium



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Eh let's see where this goes, Father/Son relationship?, M/M, Pale StitchDie, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2108064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinium/pseuds/infinium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You guess he's always been like a father to you.<br/>(Not finished)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Father

You walk down the Felt Manor quietly, praying not to wake anyone. You yawn, it must be at least four in the morning. Great. You stayed up all night again. You really need to get out of that habit. Down the hall, you see a light on behind a door, which seems to be cracked open. You creep down the hallway as quietly as you can, hoping the person in the room doesn't notice you, but at the same time, you wish they would, so you'd have someone to talk to. Unsure of whose door it is, you peek in when you get closer, the sound of a sewing machine hard at work being used by none other than the tailoring old man, Stitch, himself. 

You stand there watching him for a bit, peeking from behind his doorway. You watch his skilled craftsmanship, his percision as he sews together what looks like one of Trace's suits, grumbling under his breath. You attempt to step away, but most unfortunately, step on a squeaky floorboard. "fuck," you whisper. The much older man raises his head from his handiwork and turns his head, you freeze.  
"Die?" Stitch asks, in that German accent of his.  
"Y-yes?" You reply, tired and nervously sweating.  
"What're you doing up?"  
You swear under your breath, considering ways to distract him so you could leave. You come up with nothing.  
"I was just, ah, getting some water. I was thirsty." Yeah, that'll work for now, you think.  
Stitch shrugs and looks back down at his work. You don't move for several moments. 

Stitch seems to notice your staring, though he isn't looking at you.  
"Do you need something?"  
You sweat and swear again.  
"N-no, not really." You say.  
He looks back up and invites you in his room, you abide and shut the door behind yourself. He tells you to make yourself comfortable, and you just end up sitting cross-legged on his bed, across the room from the desk lf which he was working at. Feeling the yellow and white blanket beneath you, you notice it is tattered and resewn in several places, it must be an old blanket.  
"Are you feeling alright?" Stitch asks, not looking up.  
"Yes," You reply, clutching one of your dolls. "Just very tired."  
"Did you sleep?"  
You shake your head in response, despite the fact that he is not looking at you, but he does seem to be listening. "Not very well, if I did at all."  
Stitch's sewing machine comes to a halt. You tilt your head, slightly confused and curious as to why he had stopped.  
"What're you doing?" You ask as Stitch stands.  
"Come on, kid." He responds. That didn't answer your question at all, but beggars can't be choosers. You stand, still clutching your doll (which just so happens to be wearing a red triangular hat with the number '7' on it, but that is insignificant at the moment.) and follow the yellow-hatted man out his bedroom door, and down the hall. 

You honestly feel like a child in this situation, but you don't mind it in paticular, it feels... nice, to have attention directed towards you that isn't teasing or strict orders. Stitch leads you to the kitchen, where he asks you to sit down. You do so, and he pulls out a kettle and fills it with water. You wait in silence, fiddling gently with your doll, and rubbing your eyes, you probably wouldn't be able to sleep if you tried, but your body disagrees. 

After several minutes of silence, Stitch pulls two teacups out of the cupboard, along with a box of tea bags. A few minutes later, the man sits across from you, amd slides you a cup of tea. You thank him quietly.  
Stitch asks you a question, you don't quite remember what he asked, but the next thing you know, you were telling him just about everything. About your favourite colour, your insomnia, how much you hate Itchy, simple things, but he seemed to be listening. 

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, because you awoke in your bed. You sit up, blink a few times, then rub your eyes. After a few minutes pf processing what happened, you check the clock. Half past noon. Staggering out of your bed, you consider asking Stitch if this morning actually happened, or if it was just a really nice dream. Instead, you decide to keep it to yourself, and let time speak for itself. You change your clothing and leave your room, just to be nearly slammed to the ground by no one other than Itchy.


End file.
